


Relax for Me

by Contesa_lui_Alucard



Series: Ghosts of Paterson [2]
Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contesa_lui_Alucard/pseuds/Contesa_lui_Alucard
Summary: You love to worship Pat's body, and Pat gladly gives you control to do whatever you please. (This is approx 2,000 words of anal play. Basically porn without plot.)
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Reader, Paterson (Paterson)/You
Series: Ghosts of Paterson [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134542
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Relax for Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to say that this is set in the Ghosts of Paterson Universe... just because. But you don't have to have read that, to enjoy this, I literally don't even reference it, it's in the Universe simply by virtue of me saying so. I just like the idea that my guys exist in the little universes I create for them.
> 
> This story is just... anal porn. I literally just wanted to write anal porn. I hope you enjoy...?

Your long, lean Paterson is spread out on the bed before you, moonlit skin stark against dark blue sheets. You’re hovering over him, stretched forward and kissing him, sloppy and wet, as you circle one soft fingertip around his little puckered hole. Your digit has been slicked up with lube, extra was even dripped down between his cheeks for maximum comfort, not leaving anything up to the chance that it may hurt. Your Paterson is brave, and needy, and brimming with lust, but most importantly he’s trusting you, trusting that you will take care of him, trusting that you will only make it feel good, so good, you always make him feel so good, your words, your actions, your touches, your body, it’s all more good than Paterson thinks he even deserves, and yet…

And yet here you are, in bed with him, making his body sing in a way that no one else ever has, and all because you care. You get nothing from this, you aren’t asking him to fill you with his big cock, or his thick fingers, or his hungry tongue. You aren’t asking him to rub and lap at the little bud that sets your body alight and makes you scream for him, no, you aren’t asking for _anything_ , and that, to Pat, is the most unbelievable thing. Women have always wanted something from him: his cock, his money, his protection; they would give things back, of course: their own bodies, hot meals, attention; but it always felt incredibly… symbiotic. Like one was giving only because they needed to receive. Pat never gave with the intention of receiving, it was how he was raised, it was the mantra he believed in: give because you want to, because you should, because in some cases it was the right thing to do. And whatever Pat received in return, he was grateful for, never thinking that someone else could or should give to him ‘just because’ when he didn’t really deserve it. He wasn’t ‘in need,’ he’s strong of mind and body, capable, what did he need given to him?

And yet…

And yet his heart withered, as the years went on. Lonely, misunderstood, taken for granted… he hadn’t even realized it was happening, each day melting into the next, a mosaic of a life, blurry and undefined, comprised of moments that no longer held meaning. 

Until he met you.

Now Pat can’t remember what it’s like to be unloved, or unappreciated. Pat only knows the feeling he gets in his chest when you ask if you can make him feel good, while you bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. 

Right now, all Pat can think about is how good your little finger feels as it coaxes his hole to open. He will, he’ll open up for you, his body, his mind, his heart, all of it is open for you. Nobody else has ever belonged, earned their place, more than you have.

His dick is already hard and bouncing against his belly, flushed with blood. “Deep breath,” you murmur against his lips, waiting until he exhales to press your finger inside of him. Just the tip, just enough to loosen him up, working it in and out slowly until he begins to relax.

He’s already moaning, already trying to grab his cock and tug, but you bat his hand away, instead leaning back and pushing his legs up until he holds them by the backs of his knees.

When he has loosened up a little for you, you move to grab the new beaded toy you purchased just for him. It came as a set with a few other goodies you’d bought specifically for him, specifically to stimulate his P-Spot. They had just arrived today, and your excitement had been palpable as you showed them off to Pat, who had gulped as he looked them over.

You gently remove your finger from him, loving the way he whines at the loss of stimulation, toes flexing and neck straining as he burrows into the bed, bracing himself for what’s coming.

You cover the black silicone beads in lube, pulling his cheeks apart with one hand as the other moves to line up the toy with his ever-so-slightly gaping hole. You start with just the first tiny bead, pressing it in slowly, carefully, until with a groan, it slides inside of him.

“Good, so good,” you praise, releasing his cheek to stroke his heaving, clammy ribcage as you hold the toy in place, “you’re so good, Pat. You can take the whole thing, can’t you?”

He nods desperately, honey eyes locked on you, “Yes, yes,” he responds breathlessly, “I c-can.”

He’s flushed red from his chest to his ears when he starts pushing back against the toy, taking in the next bead, and the next, huffing and groaning and whining, until you’re sliding the toy in to the last bead. “Amazing,” you coo, “Look at you Pat, so good, so handsome, always so handsome, but especially when you’re like this.”

The curve and the length of the toy have it hitting his P-Spot just right, and Pat moans high and loud in response, “Please, please honey I— _ohhh_ please.” 

He reaches for his cock again but you brush his hand away and grab the base of his dick yourself, squeezing, “Does it feel good, Pat? Is that why you want to stroke your cock?” 

“Mhm, mhm, yes, _oh god—_ yes, yes,” he babbles, hands releasing his knees to instead curl into the blankets as he tries to hold back.

“Well I’m going to make it feel even better,” you murmur, reaching for the second toy, a vibrating prostate massager, releasing the toy that’s buried in him, and releasing his cock, to coat the massager in lubricant. You hold it in one hand while, with the other, you tug at the beads buried in his tight little ass, making them slip out of him one at a time before pushing them back in. Pat gasps, releasing his breath with one long, choked moan, eyelids fluttering as he pulls his lips in to chew on them. You watch, entranced, as his little hole sucks in and then releases each bead, the way he moans and groans at the sensation, but knowing that he can give you even more, needing to see it, to hear it. Pat grabs ahold of his legs once more, pulling them up and apart, giving you full access to him, which you take advantage of.

You pull the beads out completely, Pat whining and shifting at the loss, pressing his lips together in the beginnings of a pout, cock bobbing against his belly as a little pearly drop of precum drips out and lands on his flexing tummy. But he doesn’t have long to pout, because you quickly replace the beads with the bulbous head of the massager. It’s slightly larger than the largest bead on the first toy, but Pat’s little hole sucks it in eagerly, groaning gutturally as it seats itself inside of him. There are two more ridges to this toy, both smaller than the first, and they slide in easily, until the toy is seated to its hilt inside of him. 

Pat licks his lips, fingers flexing where they hold his knees up, his arms have to be getting tired at this point, so you give his knees a tap, “You can let go, baby. Just keep your legs spread for me, okay?”

Pat nods, glassy gold peers out through heavy lids, “Yes, honey.”

“Are you ready, baby?” You ask, fingering the embedded vibrator’s on switch.

He nods again, voice barely above a whisper, “I am.”

You flick on the switch, and watch with delight as Pat’s eyes roll right back into his skull. He moans high and soft, back arching as one hand grips the sheets and the other circles his cock, squeezing it tight in his large fist. The toy is pressed into his P-Spot, the vibrations radiating through him, he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of it, and you know that he could cum just like this. You kiss the tip of his purpling cock as precum leaks out of it, rubbing his hand until he finally releases himself, “No touching,” you murmur, lips flicking against the sensitive head of his dick as you speak. He grabs a handful of sheets instead, his hips lifting off of the mattress to hump the air, bumping into your lips. He groans, trying to rub his dick against your lips again, but you pull away with a smirk, “Uh-uh, only if I choose to touch your cock will it be touched.”

Pat whines, moans, sweat collecting on his brow as he thrusts his hips into the air, the toy jostling in his ass with each down-swing. You pinch the base of the toy and take control, pushing it in further in time with his thrusts, pressing it against his P-Spot over and over until Pat is incoherent, “Oh fuck, oh f-ffuck, I just— oh god, I wan— oh fff— oh my god, oh my god, _ohhhh—_ ”

He tenses, his tummy going taught, his back arching, “ _OOOH FUCK, OH FUCK_ ,” he chants loudly before he curls in on himself, eyes squeezing shut as his head and shoulders lift from the bed, toes curling in the sheets, as his cock begins to spurt pearly cum all over his belly and chest, “Ahhh, ah…” he whimpers as he cums, cock bobbing with each spurt until he relaxes back against the mattress, brows unknitting, body going slack, cock going still against his belly.

You turn off the toy, pulling it out carefully with no resistance, Pat’s legs spreading out flat against the bed with a sigh after you remove the toy completely. You toss it aside quickly before scrambling up the bed to wrap him in your arms. His chest labors with heavy breaths, he’s covered in cum and sweat, but you pull his head to your breast and stroke the hair from his eyes, “You did so well,” you coo, as Pat’s long, heavy limbs curl around you slowly, pulling you closer to him until not an inch remains between you.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, “Is there anything you need me to get you?”

But Pat shakes his head before burying his face into your soft breast, “Just you,” he mumbles into your skin, “then maybe a shower.”

You chuckle, tangling your fingers into his sweat-stringy hair, holding his head tighter to your chest, “That can be arranged.”

Pat sighs into your skin, letting his body relax completely in your hold. He’s sweaty, he’s sticky, he’s achy, but… he’s happy, so unbelievably happy. Right here, right now, in this moment, he is safe, loved, and dare he say it, he even feels worshiped. You’re everything to him, _everything_ , and even though he can barely move his limbs, still so weighted down with his release, he vows that as soon as he recollects himself, he’s going to make you scream. He’s going to do everything he can to make you feel as good as you make him feel, because…

Because he loves you, with every inch of himself, with every molecule. He loves you, and by some miracle you love him, and he will never take that for granted.


End file.
